


On the Run (to you)

by cedaris



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Korean War, M/M, World War II, some blood tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 17:52:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7448485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cedaris/pseuds/cedaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My name is Mino,” the boy ventured after a while, voice loud in the surrounding stillness of the trees. </p><p>“Seungyoon,” he offered, taking a long drink from the bottle.</p><p>“…You were on the frontlines, weren’t you?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Run (to you)

**Author's Note:**

> written for the 100 minute songkang challenge, prompt: battle
> 
> i thought so hard and i almost just wrote them playing a game of pokemon battle but this mess of a story happened so enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> [i made a writing twitter](https://twitter.com/yooniesam)

It was dark when the boy found Seungyoon, bleeding and alone in a grove of trees behind some ramshackle houses. Seungyoon didn’t know who he was—he could have been the enemy for all he knew, he was near the border after all—but in his haze of pain and blood, all he felt was relief at the warmth of another human being close by. He let him sling an arm around him and help him to his feet, leaning his entire weight on him as he shuffled the two of them towards one of the buildings in the near distance.

His right leg felt tingly and useless and he was almost sure it was broken; the hand he had clutched in the boy’s shirt was shaking and stained with red. He edged them through the door and gently set Seungyoon down on a bamboo mat in the corner of the room before hurrying to close the door like he was afraid someone else would enter even though they were in the middle of nowhere. The room plunged into a grey darkness, with some dying daylight filtering in from the window that was, curiously, mostly covered with a dusty blanket. The boy picked up an oil lamp on the cement ground next to the doorway and struck a match, filling the room with a faint yellow glow as he lit the wick and carried the lantern over to Seungyoon’s side. In the light, Seungyoon could make out the boy’s face better as he examined his injuries with a creased brow. He had dark tanned skin that spoke of frequent hours out in the burning sun, and sharp, intimidatingly handsome features. His clothes, he noticed, were made of burlap, the kind of material that bound potato sacks and straw, but they looked surprisingly and meticulously well-made.

His fingers were gentle as they pried at the shoulder of his khaki uniform, widening the tear to reveal a long strip of torn skin, bloodied and uneven from a bullet graze. The boy dragged a bucket of water towards him from the opposite side of the room and dipped a rag in it before dabbing lightly at the wound.

“Th-there’s a first-aid kit in my pants pocket,” Seungyoon choked out in a dry, croaky voice, and the boy dutifully unearthed it from the dirty mess of his trousers, quickly pulling out bandages and ointments. Seungyoon let himself be prodded around and bandaged up, occasionally wincing at the sting the medicinal alcohol produced, putting potentially misplaced faith in the boy’s careful treatment of his injuries.

When he tied the last knot on the makeshift brace he had created for his leg and sat back, Seungyoon’s shirt was off and his body was a patchwork of bandages and gauze. He sat up slowly, jolting as pain shot up his leg, but it had grown duller and more contained. He thanked the boy, and he waved it off dismissively, and they sat in silence as Seungyoon adjusted his bandages and took in the bizarreness of their situation. The boy picked up the canteen he’d wrestled off Seungyoon’s bloody trousers and filled it with some water from the bucket before handing it to him. Seungyoon accepted it gratefully.

“My name is Mino,” the boy ventured after a while, voice loud in the surrounding stillness of the trees.

“Seungyoon,” he offered, taking a long drink from the bottle.

“…You were on the frontlines, weren’t you?”

Mino hadn’t spoken at all throughout the rush of getting Seungyoon indoors and treated, but now that Seungyoon was hearing his voice clearly without the buzz of pain and white noise in his ears, his blood ran cold. His accent was thick and his tongue rolled over words and syllables in a way that Seungyoon wasn’t used to.

“You’re from the North.”

It was a statement. Mino stared at Seungyoon. Seungyoon met his gaze evenly. Mino cursed under his breath and turned away. Laughed.

“Of course you’d look at me like that. We’re all scum to you, aren’t we? I mean, I hate us too, but—“

“My father,” Seungyoon interrupted. “You took him.”

“He’s probably dead then. I don’t—“

“Shut the hell up.”

He was cut off again as Seungyoon made an abrupt lunge for his throat. In the back of his mind, he knew he was being irrational, that he was in no state to fight anyone, that Mino had no way of knowing his father, that he had helped him and bandaged him even though he’d probably known who he was from the start. His shoulder complained painfully as his fingers grazed the side of Mino’s neck, but Mino had his arm in a vice grip in a second flat, sharp eyes startlingly cold.

“This is war, Seungyoon. Do you think there’s any one of us who hasn’t lost someone? Don’t act like you’re the only one who’s suffering.”

His gaze softened, and he loosened his hold on Seungyoon’s arm, letting it flop uselessly back to his side. In the dim firelight, he seemed suddenly smaller, more like the lonely, vulnerable boy running from a nation out for his blood and lost in one that loathed him for his struggles. Seungyoon hesitated, then reached out a hand to touch his apologetically. Mino caught his gaze in surprise. A moment of understanding passed between them before Mino slipped his hand out from under Seungyoon’s and stretched out his body beside him on the concrete floor.

“I’m going to Seoul tomorrow. You can come with me and leave the fighting behind or, I don’t know, report back to your officer or whatever you soldiers do. If you tell them about me, I guess I’ll just have to accept the consequences. Think about it.” Mino turned and extinguished the oil lamp, letting darkness fill the small room again. Seungyoon glanced over at him and frowned, nudging him pointedly with his elbow.  
“Are you just gonna sleep on the floor?”

“Yeah, well, I gave you my mat so—“

“Shut up, it’s a big mat, get over here.”

“But you’re injured—“

“So? I’ll live. Come on, don’t be stubborn.”

“But—“

“Are you really going to make me drag you over with an injured shoulder? Because I’ll do it, you know.” Seungyoon scooted over to make room for Mino and glared at his blurry form in the darkness. Mino sighed and rolled into the space Seungyoon had created, back facing him. “Okay, happy now? Good night.”

Mino was warm against him. Seungyoon smiled.

 

When Seungyoon woke up, he was lying on his side with the uninjured shoulder, face pressed into something soft and warm. There was a heavy weight over his back. He opened his eyes slowly to tan skin and sharp collarbones and for a moment wondered if this was his touch-starved brain making up compromising scenarios. Then he realised his nose was in the crook of Mino’s shoulder and they were cuddling, and he drew back from his touch like he’d been burnt. His jostling woke Mino, who squinted at him with bleary eyes and stretched languorously, shirt riding up to show just a little bit of skin, and Seungyoon needed to get out of there before he did something he would regret.

Unfortunately, he also had a fractured leg and an injured shoulder, so all he could do was watch helplessly as Mino sat up with sleep-ruffled hair and rubbed at his face and it was adorable. It was scary how fast he was falling for this boy he’d been determined to hate a few hours ago and wait, where’d that come from? He wasn’t falling for anyone here, he swore.

“Ready to go to Seoul?” Mino’s voice was low and rough with sleep and Seungyoon made himself stop blushing long enough to register his question. The way he’d said it, it had sounded like Mino had convinced himself that Seungyoon would naturally go with him.

Seungyoon didn’t think twice when he said yes.

 

They packed up what little possessions they had, along with a hugely useful tent Mino had brought along from the North. It turned out that Mino had escaped with as much necessities as he could carry, and had found the abandoned house in the clearing first thing after crossing the border. And then he’d found Seungyoon, bleeding and helpless from a battle not far away.

Seoul was a little distance from the border, and it would take at least a day to reach the city by foot. They would need to rest, and set up camp along the way.

Mino had made Seungyoon change into one of his clothes before they left, insisting that his military uniform was too conspicuous and if he planned on abandoning the army illegally, he would have look like a civilian. His shirt hung a little loose on Seungyoon’s thin frame and his pants were hilariously baggy around his legs, but they would have to do.

“Before we get to Seoul, I think you should try and talk like a Southerner. You know, just in case people realise.”

“Ugh, that’s hard. You guys have weird accents.”

“Too bad, it’s just what you gotta do to survive.”

In the afternoon, they spent the trek through the forest bickering and Seungyoon almost forgot the pain in his body laughing at Mino’s exaggerated Southern accent, stopping at villages to stock up on supplies and rations. It was weird, but here, running away from authorities with a near-fugitive was the happiest he’d been since the war started and his entire world had gone to shit.

At night, squished together under the makeshift roof of Mino’s tent, Seungyoon learned that Mino was deathly afraid of bugs. It was almost funny, the boy who had risked his life running from an authoritative government, scared of some insects. He laughed when Mino yelped and clung to him when he felt the ants crawling along the uneven ground, randomly tickling him to make him squeal.

And in the darker hours, Seungyoon held Mino while he cried, and learned that his sister hadn’t been as successful in escaping as he had been, that they’d promised to meet in Seoul, and that he didn’t know if he would really see her there.

In the morning, they woke up tangled together, and Seungyoon didn’t bat an eye.

 

The war ended, by some miracle, as they arrived in Seoul. They heard the joyful announcements all over the city, people celebrating and throwing confetti and firing firecrackers in relief.

And by some other miracle, there was a girl standing in front of them who looked almost exactly like Mino.

Mino laughed until he cried, hugged his sister and spun her around and ruffled her hair until she pouted, and then, in a burst of genuine happiness and affection, kissed Seungyoon square on the lips.

“Thank you,” he said, as Seungyoon stared at him wide-eyed in shock and his sister giggled in barely-suppressed amusement. “I’m so glad I met you.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos make me happy <3


End file.
